







A FAIR PRIZE 



THE FAIR PRIZE 



A FAIR PRIZE 

A WORLD’S FAIR STORY 


By HARRY ESKEW ' 

. st«— * 


H. B. WIGGIN’S SONS CO., 


Copyright, 1904, by 
H. B. Wiggin’s Sons Co., 
Bloomfield, N. J. 


LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Codes Received 

JUL 22 1904 

ft Copyright Entry 

# + 

CLASS cv XXe. Ha 

9 O O 1 Z 

1 COPY B 








1 





A FAIR PRIZE 


CHAPTER L 

N THE balcony, just outside the beautiful 
palm room of the St. Charles Hotel, New 
Orleans, sits Mr. James Dalsimer, of Dalsi- 
mer & Pelletier, New York, Chicago, St. 
Louis, and New Orleans. (The elder Pelle- 
tier died five years ago, perhaps you 
remember, and in the reorganization, 
Dalsimer, who had risen by pure brain hustle from office boy 
to special representative and junior partner, was made head 
of the firm.) Dalsimer is rather stout, a little bald, a little 
grey, and on the shady side of fifty. He is smoking a fra- 
grant Havana, taking an occasional sip of a cool mixture, 
and watching with worshipful eyes two Huffily-gowned fig- 
ures approaching him from the far end of the balcony after 
having made a circuit of the palm room. 

The orchestra in the cafe is playing selections from the 
almost forgotten “ Mikado.” One of the approaching figures 
is swaying to the rytlim of : 

“ If that is so, sing derry down derry, 

’ Tis evident, very, our tastes are one ; 

Away we’ll go and merrily marry, 

Nor tardily tarry till day is done.” 

The other clasps the swaying one, with an obvious pur- 
pose of restraint. Suddenly the girl breaks away from her 
mother’s grasp, and with a laugh that goes to her father’s 
head and brings him to his feet, she flings herself into his 
outstretched arms and makes him sway with her to the swing 
of the seductive melody. 




A Fair Prize 


“Ray! Ray!” protests Mrs. Dalsimer. “Won’t you 
please behave yourself! Do make her sit down, Jim! — stop! 
— you are as bad as she ! ” 

This latter is in reference to the fact that Jim has disen- 
gaged one arm from Ray’s hold, and has put that arm about 
his wife, Ray doing likewise from the other side. The three 
begin to sway in unison. If the orchestra hadn’t stopped 
just then the interested spectators, already moved to laughter, 
would have witnessed a sight seldom seen on that rather 
exclusive balcony. 

Mrs. Dalsimer and Jim drop into chairs, Jim laughing 
broadly, and his wife looking a bit ruffled. Ray stands 
between them, and stretching her arms above their heads, 
pronounces with mock seriousness : 

“B-l-e-s-s you, my children! Be good and you will be 
happy ! ” 

She is fair to look upon. A little above the medium height, 
straight as a sheltered sapling, her well fleshed figure just 
rounding into the rich curves of early womanhood. Her 
face, upon which her father’s eyes rest with the rapt gaze 
of the worshiper, is shaded at the broad forehead with a fluff 
of dark brown hair, which together with strongly-marked 
brows, seems to give special depth and effectiveness to the 
wide-set hazel eyes. Those eyes, now r sparkling with the fun 
of the moment, may, one can easily imagine, melt with ten- 
derness or flash with power, as the mood should be upon her. 
Her nose comes straight to its vantage-point above the mouth, 
where full lips curve over perfect teeth, lips that lend radiance 
to her smile, and would tremble with sympathy, or droop with 
pain, but could not hide the feeling of the soul, nor tell a 
lie. These lips, now wide-spread with laughter, break into 
cheeks upon which the roses of health bloom perennially. 

Ray was not a dainty nor a delicate girl. Strength spoke 
from every line of her body and limbs, from her poised head, 
from her glowing eyes and broad-lipped mouth — a strength 
for burden or for battle. Immature and undisciplined as yet, 
it was full of promise for the future, especially to the father, 
whose whole life had been an expression of tireless energy. 
The mother often found it hard to understand or restrain. 


[ 6 ] 


A Fair Prize 



ST. CHARLES HOTEL, NEW ORLEANS 


Ray stood but a moment in her tragic pose, and the next 
moment was seated on her father’s knee, her arms clinging 
around his neck and her face hidden on his shoulder. Then 
this man of the world stopped laughing. Leaning his greying 
head against the dark brown hair of his pet, he looked at his 
wife through eyes that were misty with tears. 

“That’s always the way with you two,” commented the 
mother, half vexed, half smiling. “Ray behaves like the 
spoiled child she is, and you encourage her. She makes 
herself perfectly ridiculous, and people blame me for her con- 
duct. I’m like a hen mothering a duckling.” 

Jim was about to offer some excuse, but an extra hug 
from the arms about his neck choked him speechless. They 
were seated opposite a door of the palm room, at the cafe end 
of the balcony, and were facing the street. For that reason 
they did not see the appearance in the doorway of a man 
about Jim’s age and height, a little stouter, a little grayer, 
but not at all bald. The newcomer had his hat in his hand, 
and was wiping the perspiration from his brow. He gazed 

[ 7 ] 


A Fair Prize 

for a moment with evident pleasure at the group before 
him. 

“When Jim Dalsimer gets the child to sleep, an old friend 
would like to intrude himself.” He bowled very low. 

Jim glanced round at the first sound of the voice, and 
exclaimed in a tone of delighted astonishment : 

“Jack Linton ! By the great horn spoon!” 

Mrs. Dalsimer bowed and smiled, without an appearance of 
being enthusiastically cordial. Bay made a bound from her 
perch, put both hands on Linton’s bent head, and pushed his 
face down into his hat with great vehemence. 

“You bad, bad boy! How dare you walk in on us like 
this ? When did you leave New York ? When did you reach 
New Orleans? How did you leave Elsie and ” 

Then she as suddenly turned back to her father, and hid 
her face once more against his shoulder, while the two men 
shook hands. Jim had to give Linton his left hand, which 
was awkward, of course, though neither he nor Linton 
seemed to mind. 

Mrs. Dalsimer rose. She was still smiling, but there were 
lines in her forehead not usually begotten of smiles. “ I trust 
you will excuse me,” she said, “ I was about to retire to my 
room.” 

“Why, Madge, — ” began Jim in an cxpostulatory tone ; 
but a glance from her eyes stopped him. 

“ I hope Mrs. Dalsimer has benefited by her winter at Palm 
Beach and Pass Christian, and that I fiud her in good health,” 
said Linton, showing no surprise at her cool reception. 

“I am very well, thank you,” Mrs. Dalsimer replied, with 
just a touch of dignity. 

“I’m delighted to hear it. You certainly look as fresh and 
bright as you did when you were like our young lady here, — 
and that’s saying a good deal.” Linton spoke solemnly, — too 
solemnly ; there was the faintest hint of malicious humor in 
his tone. 

“You are very kind,” retorted Mrs. Dalsimer, still smiling, 
but putting a touch of emphasis on the “very.” “Permit 
me to say good-night.” As she started to leave them Ray 
followed her. 


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A Fair Prize 


“Go back to your father, my dear. I wish to be alone.” 
So Ray went back, tears springing to her eyes. The men 
were now seated, and Linton w-as saying : 

“Seems as if I had arrived at the wrong stage of the 
game. ” 

Ray again took her place on her father’s knee. Jim 
put his hand over her eyes, pretending to merely brush back 
the mass of hair, and shook his head warningly as he replied: 

“Don’t bother about the game. It is the order of the court 
that you here and now answer, categorically and without 
reservation, the questions recently put to you by this impul- 
sive young lady.” 

Laying the index finger of his right hand upon the index 
finger of his left hand, Linton began: 

“Question one: How dare I walk in on you as I did? 
Answer: Because it was more dignified and comfortable than 
being carried. There seems to be no vehicle of conveyance 
running through the palm room this evening.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” suggested Ray, glancing up from 
her resting place. “ When some people try to be funny they 
are only slow-witted and conceited. Go on, now.” 

“What a pleasure it would be to spank some children,” 
muttered Linton, meditatively. 

“ Beast! ” Ray uttered the word in her softest, most seduc- 
tive tone. Then she leaned over until her fair cheek was 
close to Linton’s. 

“If I’ve been bad, you may punish me by kissing me right 
there,” pointing to the rosiest spot on the cheek nearest to 
him. “It will give me deep pain, but I suppose I deserve it.” 

Linton touched his lips reverently to the glowing cheek, let 
his head rest tenderly against hers for an instant, and then 
took off his glasses and made a great show of cleaning them. 

“This hot weather is an awful nuisance to a fellow who 
wears glasses,” he blustered, wiping his eyes also as he spoke. 
“The perspiration will run down and make them blur until a 
fellow can’t see. ” 

“Mr. Linton,” said Ray, very quietly, looking straight and 
hard at him out of her hazel eyes, “you are the biggest fraud, 
and the greatest baby I ever knew. Isn’t he, Papa Dalsimer ?” 

[91 


A Fair Prize 


“ Don’t ask me, my dear,” her father answered. “ Linton is 
a lawyer, and he’ll tell you that no man is bound to incrimi- 
nate himself.” 

‘ ‘ Both of you are big frauds and babies ! ” asserted Ray, as 
she went back to her resting-place. “But my questions are 
not answered yet. ” 

“Question two,” said Linton, putting the index finger of 
his right hand on the middle finger of his left : “ When did 

I leave New York ? Answer: I left New York a week ago 
yesterday. Question three ” (taking the next finger) : ‘ ‘ When 
did I get to New Orleans? Answer: I arrived at New 
Orleans to-day at five minutes past twelve, Central time. 

Question four : How did I leave Elsie and . Answer: I 

left Elsie very well, enjoying the agony of preparing for her 
summer campaign at Saratoga, the Adirondacks, the Thou- 
sand Islands, and the other places where young women lay 
traps for susceptible young men. She will not visit the St. 
Louis Fair until in the fall. As for ‘and,’ whatever or who- 
ever that may be, I can’t answer until the question is made 
more definite and intelligible. To use the vernacular, ‘it’s up 
to you,’ Miss Ray.” 

“Now don’t be horrid,” Ray almost whispered. “You 
know who I mean.” Then she straightened up in her impul- 
sive manner, and looking at him with an air of bravado, she 
asked in the politest society tone : 

“ May Miss Dalsimer ask Mr. John Linton how his son, Mr. 
Robert Linton, was prospering when Mr. John Linton last 
saw him ? ” 

“ Oh! it’s Bob is it that you left hanging in the air on that 
indefinite ‘and.’ Well, Bob was looking a little tired after a 
pretty thorough grind at business during the winter and 
spring. I never saw him work so before. Elsie has had a 
hard time to get him to take her anywhere, and she has com- 
plained rather strenuously about her brother’s neglect. But 
Bob is to start on his vacation this very day. He will leave 
the grindstone for at least three months’ travel. I insisted on 
it. I can’t afford to have my boy break down.” 

Ray’s eyes had grown larger and brighter as Linton spoke 
in his careless way, and there was a look of pain in them. 


[ ioi 


A Fair Prize 

“I suppose Bob will travel in Europe?” Her voice 
sounded hard. 

Linton pretended not to notice. 

“No,” he said. “Bob will stick to his own country. He 
is planning, I believe, to do the West more thoroughly, and 
he may go up into the Canadian woods. He wants just a 
glimpse of the World’s Fair, and will be in St. Louis by the 
last of next week. ” 

“ The last of next week,” repeated Ray, rising from her 
father’s knee and moving slowly down to an unoccupied part 
of the balcony, where she stood looking into the street below 
with eyes that saw nothing of the passing throng. 

The two men watched her in silence. They uttered no 
word until she had come quietly back to them, had said good- 
night, and retired to her room. 

Linton laughed, but Jim frowned. 

“Your good wife’s scheme of keeping Ray out of Bob’s 
company for a wiiole year has not accomplished its purpose,” 
said Linton. 

“No.” 

Jim shook his head. He looked seriously at his cigar for a 
minute or two, before adding: 

“No, her scheme hasn’t been altogether a success, but it 
has got my little girl into a heap of trouble. She’s too much 
of a thoroughbred to show the strain, but she can’t hide any- 
thing from her old dad. Her mother has given me little 
chance to talk with Ray alone since I met them at the Pass 
two weeks ago, and Ray’s letters during the winter haven’t 
told me much. Still I saw some things on my visits to Palm 
Beach that made me feel shaky about Bob’s chance. Let’s 
get something cool to drink, and I’ll tell you all about it.” 



[ ll 1 


CHAPTER II. 


M RS. DALSIMER, alone in her room, was having a 
struggle with herself. In their youth, down in old 
Kentucky, Madge Mason and Linton had been lovers. 
A quarrel in which she was greatly at fault drove him 
from her. He went to a Northern university, studied law, 
and settled in New York. Madge married Dalsimer, whom 
she met through her uncle Pelletier ; Linton also married, 
less than three months later. The whole experience left a 
bitterness in Mrs. Dalsimer’s soul, a bitterness she could 
neither justify nor expel. When, years afterward, Linton 
became counsel for her husband’s firm, and a frequent visitor 
at her home, she strove to conquer her dislike, but did not 
fully succeed. 

Linton was then a widower with two children, a boy two 
years older than Ray, and a girl slightly Ray’s junior. The 
young people grew fond of each other, and Mrs. Dalsimer 
was thoroughly roused one day to discover that between Bob 
and Ray the fondness was reaching the danger line. Bob was 
his father’s son ; that was more than enough against him. 
Mrs. Dalsimer tided matters over until Ray graduated from 
Miss Gifford’s school — last year — and then took Ray to 
Europe, where they remained until nearly Christmas. They 
were then home but a short time, going to Palm Beach for 
the rest of the winter. 

At Palm Beach an invalid widow and her devoted son 
strongly attracted Ray, and her sympathy for the son at the 
time of his mother’s death in February seemed to bring them 
into very tender relations. Mrs. Dalsimer and Ray accom- 
panied Lionel Beeson to his Indianapolis home, and were his 
guests until after the funeral. Then they went to Pass Chris- 
tian, near New Orleans, with no definite plan except to stay 
through the Mardi Gras period. Lionel was compelled to go 


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A Fair Prize 


to the Pacific Coast on some business, but lie hoped to join 
them at the Pass in a little while. This he was unable to do. 
He wrote regularly, however, and in this had the advantage 
of Bob, whose only communication with Bay was through 
the letters of his sister ; and Elsie was not a very systematic 
correspondent. 

Mrs. Dalsimer was as strongly in favor of young Beeson as 
she was against Bob Linton. That the cider Linton should 
arrive just now, to revive the influences of old associations, 
was exasperating. With Jim already on Linton’s side who 
could tell what schemes they might contrive. 

Jim had visited them at Palm Beach, and had arrived at the 
Pass two weeks before. It was early in June, and Mrs. Dal- 
simer had prolonged her stay far beyond the season, probably 
hoping that Lionel might reach them before they were com- 
pelled to return home. Jim was now taking them to St. Louis 
w 7 here they would visit the great Louisiana Purchase Exposi- 
tion. Mrs. Dalsimer felt that the crisis had come. 

She rose and tapped on the door of Bay’s room, having 
heard her when she came up. Beceiving no response she 
opened the door and stepped in. Bay, fully dressed, was lying 
on her bed, her face buried in the pillows. The mother’s 
heart was touched. 

“ Bay, dear, what are you grieving about ? ” 

Bay looked up. 

“I’m not grieving, mamma; I am only trying to read the 
secret of my heart. ” 

“Can you read it ? ” 

“I’m not sure. I wish I were. Why is it so hard ? We 
certainly ought to know ourselves.” 

“But we don’t, my darling. We sometimes make mis- 
takes, and repent them when it is too late.” 

Bay was silent for a time. Then she said : 

“Bob is to be in St. Louis when we reach there.” 

The mother started, and frowned. Had Jim and Linton 
been plotting against her ? Bay went on : 

“I wish Lionel could be there, too. I don’t know my 
heart. I might make a mistake. Must we go to-morrow ? I 
need time to think. Can’t we w 7 ait a little longer ?” 


[ 13 ] 


A Fair Prize 


Just then Jim’s footsteps were heard ; he was evidently 
looking for them. Mrs. Dalsimer called him, and he came in. 

“ Hello ! ” he cried. “ What’s the matter ?” 

“Jim,” said Mrs. Dalsimer, gently, “our little girl is suf- 
fering, and we must help her. We must not go to St. Louis 
to-morrow. Can you spare the time to wait a few days 
longer ? ” 

Jim understood. He considered a moment. 

“ Well,” he said, “as for myself, I must go on to St. Louis; 
but I think I can fix matters for you folk. Why not go by 
boat, you two ? The ‘ Chalmette ’ sails to-morrow even- 
ing, going straight through, and it will take her about seven 
days to make the trip. Will that be time enough ? She is a fine 
boat, and the ride up the river will be very cool and pleasant.” 

Ray grasped at the suggestion. 

“Papa! Mamma! Let’s go that way ! May we, mamma?” 

“Yes, dear, if you like.” 

“ Then I’ll arrange for it in the morning,” said Jim. 

So it was settled. The next morning Mrs. Dalsimer was 
up early and sent a telegram to San Francisco which read : 

“We leave to-night by steamboat ‘Chalmette’ for St. 
Louis. Will take seven days. Meet us if possible at Mem- 
phis. Don’t fail.” 



[ 14 ] 


CHAPTER III. 


T HEY reached the “Chalmette” the next evening half 
an hour before her time for sailing. Jim had in the 
morning made all needful arrangements, so they went 
directly to the hurricane deck, from which they could look 
down upon the animated scene. Mrs. Dalsimer was in a most 
amiable mood, and Ray was in a reaction from the depression 
of the previous night. 

To one not familiar with such sights, the loading of a Mis- 
sissippi steamer is full of interest. The long and varied pro- 
cession of vehicles unload their burdens on the stone paving 
at the top of the levee; the double line of blacks hustle the 
freight across the boat’s broad staging, and pile it with skill- 
ful accuracy where it belongs; the white overseers, with 
many hard words, and occasional blows, keep the negroes on 
the jump ; everybody appears wrought up to a high pitch of 
excitement, and even the spectator shares its thrills. 

The rest of the party were at first kept amused by Ray’s 
comments on the scene, but she gradually grew quiet, and 
after a time raised her eyes to the broad Canal Street with its 
crowded sidewalks and seemingly confused mass of trolleys. 
“ Dear old New Orleans ! ” 

Jim and Linton laughed. 

“ It gets into the blood down here,” said Linton. “I’ll bet 
the little one is thinking of the French quarter more than 
of all the other and finer quarters that need no fumigation.” 

‘ ‘ I am, ” admitted Ray. ‘ ‘ Who cares for a little dirt ! I just 
love those quaint old houses, the strange people, the dear old 
cathedral, even the picturesque market, though it does smell 
to heaven.” 

“We might take apartments for the summer in one of 
those quaint old houses,” suggested her father. “I hate to 
tear you away from it all.” 


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A Fair Prize 

“Don’t be a mean old tease,” said Hay, affectionately 
squeezing bis arm. “Some things are nice to look at, but 
would be very difficult to live with.” 

“ I wonder which of us she means, Linton ?” 

Linton’s answer was drowned in the clanging of the 
“ Chalmette’s ” great bell. It was the signal for those to get 
on who were going, and for those to get off who were not. 
The two men made their adieus, and Mrs. Dalsimer and Ray 
watched them as they wound their way through the excited 



JACKSON PARK, NEW ORLEANS — THE OLD CATHEDRAL 


crowd below, and saw them stop at the beginning of the 
board walk which crosses the open square. 

Bedlam had broken loose about the boat. Above the rush of 
many footsteps, and the banging of freight upon the deck, rose 
the voices of the officers, stridently commanding. Some of the 
hurrying darkies began to shout and sing, the singing being 
a sort of chant, wild and mournful, but stirring to the blood. 

Again the great bell sounded. The boat began to vibrate, 
and the scramble below was frantic. Another peal. The 
great staging began to creak and rise. The boat moved, 
backward, forward, sideways, little by little working out into 
the stream. Then with loud, triumphant blasts from her 


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A Fair Prize 


whistle the beautiful craft started on her 1,252 miles journey 
to the city of the World’s Fair. 

Jim and Linton waved their hats, and Ray and her mother 
waved their handkerchiefs. It was fortunate that they 
couldn’t see how deeply affected were the two grizzled men 
now lost in the fading crowd. 

All four were impressed that the boat was bearing to the 
great Exposition a fair prize, destined to be there lost and 
won. Who would be the winner ? Who the loser? 




CHAPTER IV. 

W HEN they had sufficiently recovered their composure, 
Mrs. Dalsimer and Ray started to find their way 
down to the cabin, and they had just turned from 
the rail against which they had been leaning when they found 
themselves confronted by a small man, faultlessly dressed, 
smooth shaven, with a humorously good-natured face and a 
pair of twinkling dark blue eyes. He had his hat off, and his 
red hair stood straight up from his scalp. 

“Well I never!” exclaimed Ray. “Where on earth did 
you come from ? ” 

“ Sure and if you asked me from where off of earth I came, 
your question ’d be more to the point, young lad) 7 . ” 

“Well, we are glad to see you, Mr. Travers, wherever you 
came from,” said Mrs. Dalsimer. “ Did Mr. Dalsimer know 
you were to be on board ? ” 

“ He wasn’t sure of it until I met him just as he was leav- 
ing you a little while ago. I had a bit of work up at the 
Lake, and didn’t think I could get away in time to take this trip. 
But at the last minute I managed it, and I’ll now realize one of 
the dreams of my life — I’ll have a sail on the Mississippi.” 

A white-coated waiter approached them and informed them 
that dinner was about to be served. 

Travers led the way down, and sat with them at the table, 
his presence being just the antidote they needed for the sense 
of loneliness and strangeness. 

He was a New York man, and an authority in the world of 
decorative art. The Travers & Thompson studio was a 
gathering place of the elect. He was supposed to be a bach- 
elor, and his apartments over the showrooms were full of 
curious and beautiful things gathered from the ends of the 
earth. He and Dalsimer had long known each other, and 
Travers had planned and superintended the decoration of the 

[ 18 ] 


A Fair Prize 


Dalsimer home, as well as that of the various offices of Dal- 
simer’s firm. He had never visited the Dalsimers socially, 
and Mrs. Dalsimer’s acquaintance with him was compara- 
tively slight, but Ray had made numerous visits to his studio, 
and had spent many a happy hour among his precious art 
treasures. He had recently, as he told them, been overseeing 
the carrying out of plans he had drawn for some wealthy 
people who had built on the shores of Lake Pontcliartrain, 
and he was now going north hoping to escape an expected call 
to New York, and to have time to see the World’s Fair before 
returning east. 

From her seat at the table Ray had an opportunity to survey 
the long cabin of the beautiful “ Clialmette. ” It was simply 
but tastefully decorated, electric lighted, and flanked on 
either side, of course, with staterooms which, while neces- 
sarily compact, were of ample size, and, judging by their own, 
very comfortable. Everything had been fitted up for the 
World’s Fair season without regard to expense, as the “Chal- 
mette ” is the only steamboat running direct from New Orleans 
to St. Louis. For those who have the time to spare no trip 
could be more enjoyable. The scenery along the great river 
is full of variety, and there is always a refreshing breeze as 
the swift side-wlieeler plows her way through the waters. 
Under the competent direction of Captain Ben Rea and his 
experienced pilots the element of danger is almost eliminated. 

They found the dinner excellently cooked and served. The 
tables were set lengthwise of the cabin, and were in all their 
appointments suggestive of a first-rate hotel. The great 
crowd of passengers appeared like one big family, and the 
dinner hour was passed in the high spirits usual to a company 
starting out upon a pleasure excursion. 

After dinner the three went out on deck and Travers, by 
permission of Mrs. Dalsimer, walked with them while he 
smoked a cigar. The shadows were falling and the stars 
beginning to shine. In that balmy air, under those darken- 
ing skies, with the moving landscape softening into obscurity, 
and the river around them placidly pressing on toward the 
sea, even Travers was hushed to silence, and they gave them- 
selves up for an hour to wordless enjoyment. 


[ 19 1 


A Fair Prize 


When again they went into the cabin they found the ladies’ 
parlor full of people who were sitting around in the rather 
constrained fashion of those who meet in this general way. 
The constraint is easily broken, however, if someone will take 
the lead, and Travers was not slow in doing it. He seated 
himself at the piano, touched a few preliminary chords, and 
then sang, in a rich, sympathetic baritone, “Bonnie Sweet 
Bessie, the Maid of Dundee.” There were tears in all eyes 
when he uttered the plea of the heartbroken lassie: 

“ O God in Heaven, take me with you too, 

To be with my laddie so good and true ! ” 

When he had completed the tender ballad, Travers sat for a 
moment with his fingers resting idly on the keys; then he 
carried their emotions to the other extreme by singing a pre- 
posterous ditty about a lover, a garden fence and a dog, with 
a chorus, in which the lover bids his sweetheart to “ Wait till 
the bulldog dies, Maria.” Bv the time it was all sung the 
entire company was united in the fellowship of a common 
merriment. 

Then Travers enlisted others. A big man whose idea of 
singing was to bellow with all the power of his mighty 
lungs, roared something to Travers’ despairing accompani- 
ment. All that could be discovered from his utterance was 
that somebody’s bright eyes haunted him still. When peace 
was restored, Ray poured the balm of her sweet tones upon 
the wounded ears of the company, singing “Every morn I 
send thee violets ” in a manner never to be forgotten by those 
who heard it. 

A young couple, obviously on their honeymoon, accepted 
an invitation to favor the audience. Smilingly and without 
embarrassment they went to the piano. She seated herself, 
and he stood beside her, his arm affectionately across her 
shoulders. They sang “ Mary of Argyle ” as a soprano and 
tenor duet, and when after the final repetition of the refrain, 

“ Tis thy heart, my gentle Mary, 

And thy artless, winning smile, 

That makes this earth an Eden, 

Bonnie Mary of Argyle,” 


[ 20 ] 


A Fair Prize 


he bent over her, and, with an exquisite unconsciousness of 
watching eyes, kissed her as she looked up at him, the 
applauding spectators were sure that her name was Mary, 
and that he loved her with a manly love. 

The “Old Kentucky Home” gave everybody, especially 
the big man, a chance to join in. Travers then entertained 
them with some effective legerdemain, and the performance 
closed with a roaring “ Good-niglit, Ladies.” 

So passed the first evening on board the beautiful 
“Chalmette.” 



[21 ] 


CHAPTER V. 


T HE next morning Mrs. Dalsimer found a telegram which 
had been slipped under her door during the night, it 
having caught the boat at one of the landings. It 

read: 

“Will meet boat at Memphis or sooner. Many thanks. 
Hope all are well. Lionel.” 

She did not mention this to Ray. 

After breakfast Travers found a shady place for them on 
the deck, and they sat for a time watching and commenting 
upon the magnificent scenery passing like an endless panorama 
before them. Here the banks of the broad river were covered 
with stretches of forest, the trees clothed in full summer 
foliage, with an occasional bunch of late blossoms giving 
relief to the masses of green. A little farther on, the forest 
was broken by a clearing, and a many-acred plantation came 
into view, the “big house” almost hidden by trees, and the 
whitewashed homes of the negroes surrounded by bits of 
garden and patches of shrubbery. Not all the plantations 
are so well kept, but on the lower Mississippi to-day the 
tidiness and system which is making its mark on the “new 
south ” is notable. 

Travers had once or twice mentioned Jack Linton, with 
whom he was well acquainted, though he had not met the 
children, but he soon discovered that Mrs. Dalsimer preferred 
other topics. He did not fully understand, but he was wise. 
So this morning, when at last he turned their thoughts from 
the grandeur of Nature it was to remark: 

“You mentioned last evening, Mrs. Dalsimer, that you’d 
like to have me describe the work done on your home since 
you’d been away. Shall I begin now ? ” 

“If you will be so kind.” 


[ 22 j 


A Fair Prize 


“ Shall I begin at the very beginning ?” 

“ If you please.” 

“ Well, then, I must begin with the day when Jim — I mean 
Mr. Dalsimer — came to the office of Travers & Thompson, and 
said he, ‘ Roger,’ — that was to me, you know, — ‘my house over 
in Jersey needs redecorating, and I want you to see it.’ Said 
he, continuing, ‘ I’ve a very handsome wife somewhere in 
Europe,’ — that was you, ma’am, — ” 

Mrs. Dalsimer turned her head away, not so much to hide 
her amusement as to get time to press back the tears that 
strangely filled her eyes. 

“ — ‘and the sweetest little sunshine of a daughter ever 
sent down from the skies to bless a mortal man,’ — by which 
he meant you, Miss, I’ve no doubt.” 

Ray was fairly convulsed. Travers’ whole speech had been 
made with the utmost gravity. 

“ O, Mr. Travers! Mr. Travers! you’re an outrageous hum- 
bug!” she said when she caught her breath. “Papa would 
never talk like that. Imagine him ! You’ve just been making 
it all up.” 

“Steady now, my dear, — steady. Perhaps he may not 
have used identically those same words, but the sentiments 
are his very own. ” 

“ Well,” said Ray, wiping her eyes, “you may as well go 
on with your story.” 

“ So I will, with your kind permission. Said he, — I mean 
your father, Miss, — ‘ Roger,’ said he, ‘ my handsome wife left 
few instructions as to her wishes, and I’ve no others to give 
you. Just use your own best judgment as to how you’ll do 
the work P And I did. I hope the result will be satisfac- 
tory. I’d like to be present when you folk first lay your eyes 
on it. If you aren’t well pleased I’ll be grievously disap- 
pointed.” 

“We can form some idea of how we’ll like it when you 
have described it to us,” hinted Mrs. Dalsimer. 

Travers glanced at her whimsically, and was about to pro- 
ceed, when the whistle of the “ Chalmette ” blew three long 
blasts, so hoarse and nerve-racking that even he covered his 
ears and made an agonized grimace. 


[ 23 ] 


A Fair Prize 


“We’re about to make a landing,” he said, “ and you’ll be 
interested to watch the performance. Come away with me, 
now, and I’ll tell my story afterwards. ” 

They all went forward. The boat was still at some dis- 
tance from the landing, which was a good-sized village. As 
they approached they found there was no wharf or pier to 
which the steamer was to be tied, merely the bank of the 
river, with a freight house at a respectful distance. The old 
Father of Waters is too uncertain, has too many freaks of mind 
and action, to warrant wharf building. He may at any 
moment take a notion to bite a slice out of the bank, and there- 
by move the landing-place farther io toward the levee limit. 

The “ Chalmette ” slowly swung in, paying due respect to 
the current, until she was close enough to drop her staging 
on the shore. Immediately the roustabouts began to carry 
off the freight she had to deliver, the mates encouraging 
them with the usual remarks, generally uncomplimentary, 
often profane. 

But it was the shore group which interested Ray most just 
now. A very few white men in the group were evidently 
men of business, and exhibited a little semblance of alert- 
ness; but the rest of the whites were of a type Ray had never 
before seen. Though they had, presumably, taken the 
trouble to walk down to the levee for the distinct purpose of 
seeing the boat come in, they gave no outward sign of inter- 
est. Their faces were vacant. They stood in all possible 
attitudes, except the upright. Hands in their pockets, pipes 
or quids (or both) in their mouths, their slouch hats drawn 
well down over their foreheads, they appeared as inanimate 
and indifferent as a human being, able to expectorate, could 
possibly be. Ray called her mother’s attention to them, and 
remarked : 

“Do look at those white men, mamma! Did you ever see 
anything so utterly lifeless and hopeless ? Do they ever work, 
Mr. Travers, or can they be stirred up to show energy ? ” 

“Not many of that class, my dear. They are a peculiar 
lot, but don’t imagine them to be typical of the southern 
white man. They are the drones, the loafers. We have 
some such people in the north, too. The difference is mainly 


[ 24 ] 


A Fair Prize 

that here, where the negro is at the bottom of the social 
scale, any man with a white skin feels a sort of birthright 
superiority. But the labor question is becoming serious in 
these days, and the time is not far away when such gentry 
as are posing there for our benefit will be trodden under the 
feet of Progress. The ‘survival of the fittest’ will take care 
of them.” 

The bell was just sounding its warning, and the negroes 
were scurrying about to get the “ Clialmette ” loose, when a 
man came riding down toward the levee, standing up in his 



LOADING COTTON ON THE LEVEE, NEW ORLEANS 

stirrups and waving a bit of paper. A negro ran to receive it, 
gave it to the mate; they both sprang on the already creak- 
ing staging, and the “ Clialmette ” was again under way. 

It proved to be a message for Ray from her father. It read : 
“Somebody will meet the boat at Memphis. Be good to 
him. I will send him.” 

Ray’s cheeks flamed, and her heart beat tumultuously as 
she handed the paper to her mother. Mrs. Dalsimer read it 
frowningly. Ray looked at her, and waited for her to speak. 


[ 25 ] 


A Fair Prize 

The mother controlled the irritation she felt, and presently 
said, with a rather forced smile : 

‘ ‘ I knew, dear, that somebody was likely to meet us there. 
Don’t worry about it now. Let’s go back to our seats and 
hear Mr. Travers tell what he did to our home.” 

So they went back, slowly and silently. The acute Travers 
realized that something lay beneath all this, and wondered 
what it might be. When they were again seated he began: 

“ Now this story of mine is a story of Fab-Ri-Ko-Na.” 

“ Fab-Ri-Ko-Na ?” Ray uttered the word as if it might be, 
as indeed it sounded, some mystic word, suggestive of the 
Orient and the hidden mysteries of an obsolete faith. “And 
who or what may Fab-Ri-Ko-Na be ? ” 

“Fab-Ri-Ko-Na, my dear young lady, is neither who nor 
what. Fab-Ri-Ko-Na, in the language of the day, is ‘It.’ 
’Tis a wall-covering that troubled decorators like myself when 
it first came on the market, but has proved a great blessing 
to us since we came to appreciate its wonderful possibilities. 
Less than a dozen years ago we had three methods of treating 
a wall. We could tint and fresco it, if the means of our 
patron permitted the expense ; we could cover it with wall- 
papers, many of them very beautiful and in most respects 
satisfactory; or, as between the two, we could put up frames 
and tack fast to them certain fabrics, giving a sort of tapestry 
effect. But all these had their shortcomings. If we frescoed 
or papered, then the walls would crack, and in a little while 
spoil our best effects. Nearly all the papers w T ould fade, too, 
and they were easily soiled or marred. If we stretched the 
tapestries, they would collect dust and dirt, would harbor all 
kinds of unpleasant livestock, and would sag and wrinkle 
when the weather conditions took hold of them. ’Twas all a 
monstrous bother, to be sure, but we made the best of it, see- 
ing as how we had nothing else to do with. 

“One day a certain man, who was destined to hand the 
name of Wiggin down to a grateful posterity, invented a new 
something. He took those fabrics we had been trying to 
stretch over the walls, and after dyeing them as they never 
before had been dyed, he put a backing on them so that they 
could be pasted fast to the walls, just as we paste wall papers. 


[ 26 ] 


A Fair Prize 

It was a bran new idea, and it took us some time to fall in 
line with it. But we came round to it after a while, though 
I was, I confess, one of the very slow ones. And when we 
did, we were delighted to find that it solved for us most of 
the problems we had been up against. 

“ ’iou see how easily the use of a fabric put a stop to the 
bothersome cracking of walls. When a woven wall covering 
is used, the greatest cracker of a wall can’t open a single 
mouth, and you never get a chance to see what its cracked up 
to be. The fabric holds it as tight as McManus held the pig 
with a greased tail.” 

“How could he hold that tightly?” Iiay asked, in wonder- 
ment. 

“ Sure he caught it by the hind leg,” replied Travers, look- 
ing very serious, and pushing his hair up a bit straighter. 

“ O ! ” said Ray. Then she added : “ Was that considered 

fair?” 

“Ho,” answered Travers; “ but it took four men to make 
him let go. And when a Fab-Ri-Ko-Na wall covering is once 
pasted to the wall it takes a powerful lot of pulling to make 
it let go.” 

“Are these Fab-Ri-Ko-Na wall coverings made of what 
they call burlap ? ” asked Mrs. Dalsimer. 

“ Some of them are,” Travers replied. 

“But burlaps do fade. I’ve a friend who had some put in 
her home It looked very nice when it was first put up, but 
it soon faded, until it really disfigured the wall. ” 

“My dear Mrs. Dalsimer,” said Travers, “every good thing 
has imitations, and while imitation is said to be the sincerest 
flattery, the real thing sometimes suffers by the faults of the 
imitation. There are cheap and imperfect imitations of 
Fab-Ri-Ko-Na on the market; and, until the people learn to 
understand the situation, these will find sale, and do harm to 
the cause of the better goods by disappointing people and 
making them distrustful. One of the great merits of the 
Fab-Ri-Ko-Na line is that all goods are dyed under expert 
supervision, by processes especially adapted to the particu- 
lar fibres, whether jute, cotton, or other, and with only 
the best dyes known to the masters in chemistry.” 


[ 27 ] 


A Fair Prize 


“ It must have been the real thing that we had on our hall- 
ways at Miss Gifford’s,” said Kay. “ It was put on the year 
before I went there, and was as beautiful as ever when I left. 
It was a lovely green, and it made the hallway look so rich 
and dignified that the papers on the rooms seemed flat and 
cheap by contrast. Yet they were costly papers. Why is it, 
Mr. Travers, that the burlaps seem to have such a depth to 
them, and seem to make the light less glaring, without mak- 
ing the room darker ? ” 

“ ’Tis just the fabric and its finish, Miss Ray. The fabric 
lets the light sink in, and gives the suggestion of depth. 
The light is not reflected back, as it is from papered surfaces, 
and so there is no glare to tire the eyes or strain the nerves. ” 

“ It certainly is delightfully restful.” 

“ But the dyeing is not the only other merit. The backing 
put on the goods so that they can be pasted to the walls fills 
up all the texture, so that when it is pasted fast it will not 
harbor vermin or accumulate dirt. The distinctive surface 
finish is such that dust may be brushed from the walls as 
easily as you brush it from papers. Moreover, the goods are 
thoroughly treated with an antiseptic which makes them 
sanitary.” 

Just here one of the waiters approached to call them in to 
luncheon. 



L 28 ] 


CHAPTER VI. 


W HEN they left the table, Ray and her mother went 
to their state-room and Travers went out on deck. 
During the hour a change had come over the scene. 
The sun was hidden behind clouds. The whole western sky 
was murky with a growing blackness. Along the horizon 
there were frequent flashes, and from the far distance came 
the echoes of heavy thunder. 

The wind had risen, and it whistled harshly through the 
rigging of the boat, while on shore the forest trees bent to 
and fro in tremulous agitation. The green fields took on a 
troubled look, as if the shadow falling over them was a 
menace of evil. Around the boat the yellow waters began to 
beat in choppy waves that hit against her sides with angry 
slaps. 

The dark, electric-laden clouds rose swiftly in the sky. 
The lightning grew more vivid, and the thunder deeper and 
more prolonged. Soon the rain-drops fell, and there was a 
general scattering for shelter, the women, and most of the 
men, seeking refuge in the cabin. 

Travers found a fairly sheltered spot outside, and stood 
where he could watch the growing storm. His face bore a 
new look. Something of the trouble the fields and forests 
felt was reflected from his usually merry countenance, and 
his eyes had a far-off expression, as if he were seeing visions. 

It was thus Ray found him a few moments later. She had 
heard the sounds of the approaching storm, and had come 
from her room just as the crowd rushed into the cabin. 
Knowing that her mother would keep herself secluded until 
the storm was over, Ray hurried to the deck. Storms had a 
strange attraction for her. Instead of inspiring fear and 
dread, they seemed to call up from the depths of her nature 
a mighty strength and exaltation. She fairly quivered with 


[ 29 ] 


A Fair Prize 


vitality, as if the electricity streaming from the forbidding 
clouds entered her blood and made her tingle with an almost 
superhuman life. 

“Isn’t it glorious!” she exclaimed, after a dazzling flash 
had awakened a peal which made the timid shrink in terror. 
Travers had not moved, and gave no sign of hearing her. 
She grasped his arm : 

“ Isn’t it glorious, I say! Doesn’t it bring one into living 
touch with the Power upon which we all depend for support 
— that Power which fills the earth and the heavens! ” 

Travers turned and looked into her glowing face and 
excited eyes. 

“Child, child, you don’t know,” he muttered, slowly and as 
to himself. “ ’Tis a Power to cast down as well as to sup- 
port. May its stroke never fall upon you.” 

Ray was amazed and startled by the change in him. His 
voice trembled with passionate pain. He was like an embodi- 
ment of the storm; and for the first time in her life she began 
to feel the terror of it. She was the more amazed when 
Travers turned again toward the beating storm, and, while 
the rain, the wind, and the thunder made a weird accompani- 
ment, began to repeat in a dull monotone : 

“ But they fade when the billows roll high, 

And the storm smites the face of the sea; 

And the winds seem to sob and to sigh, 

And to shriek, with a maddening cry, — 

Yet it is not the wind, it is I! 

I sob and I plead, but my plea 
The sea-surges mock in their glee; 

And the fair vision fades in the mist and the foam, 

And I turn once again to my task and my tome.” 

A sob from Ray recalled him. 

“Little woman,” said Travers, turning to her with a wan 
smile. “You mustn’t feel so bad about it. ’Tis the spirit of 
the storm that lays hold of me, and brings out what I try to 
repress. Don’t imagine me to be morbid or unhappy. I 
wouldn’t try to recall from their eternal rest the wife and 
baby taken from me so long ago. I am lonely at times, but 
not despairing, except when the storm carries me off my bal- 
ance for a moment. I thank you for your sympathy, though 


[ 30 ] 


A Fair Prize 

it’s a shame you should be burdened with my sorrows. See! 
the sun is breaking through. The storm is over, and we will 
soon forget it. If you will bring your mother, we’ll find a 
dry spot, and I’ll go on with my Fab-Ri-Ko-Na story.” 

Ray left him and went back into the cabin, pondering sadly 
upon the experience of the last half hour, and reflecting with 
the surprise that only youth can feel upon the blindness and 
ignorance with which we walk among our fellowmen. As 
we grow older we know only too well that every man, every 
woman, wears a mask ; and that the mask of Comus may hide 
a soul battling for life against the powers of darkness. 

She found her mother and brought her out on deck where 
now the sun was shining as freely as if no storm-cloud had 
ever interfered. In Travers, too, there was no sign of storm. 
His face was humorously smiling, as it was wont to be, and 
he greeted them with : 

“ ’Tis a very wet day, wid th’ rain falling down; 

And me wid me marketin’ ready for town; 

’Tis a very wet day, says Paddy Mahone, 

A very wet day, don’t ye think ? 

’Tis a very dry day, all in spite of your rain. 

An’ me wid a thirst on me, cruel as Cain ! 

’Tis a very dry day, says Barney Malone, 

When a fellow has nothing to drink ! ” 

In the rollicking tone, and the expressive pantomime with 
which this was rendered there wasn’t the slightest reminder 
of the deep passion so recently uppermost in him. lie found 
seats for them. 

“ It was a hard storm,” said Mrs. Dalsimer. “ I’m glad it 
was so soon over. I’m rather nervous about the lightning.” 

“Yes,” assented Travers, “it was rather hard while it 
lasted, but it has left the trees and fields all the greener and 
sweeter for it, and even the air is cooler and more refreshing. 
You ought to be the better fitted to hear another installment 
of my Fab-Ri-Ivo-Na story.” 

“ Suppose you take us right to our home, and introduce us 
to it as it looks since you decorated it,” suggested Mrs. Dal- 
simer. “You can explain the materials as you go along.” 


[31 ] 



THE CHALMETTE 



A Fair Prize 


“Yes, do, Mr. Travers,” said Ray. “It will seem almost 
like visiting home itself, and I would dearly love to see it.” 

“Very well,” assented Travers. “We’ll imagine our air- 
ship to be waiting. Will you kindly step in-, ladies? Are 
you seated ? Take one deep, full breath — enough to last you 
just two minutes. Ready ? Now, we’re off ! See that little 
blur down there ? That’s the landscape with the wrinkles 
all smoothed out. Don’t the old machine buzz ! Now, mind 
yourselves, and hold on. I am about to stop. There! we 
are once more in the land of the Misquitobites — in other 
words, we are in New Jersey almost within sight of New 
York, and our machine is settling gently down in front of 
your own home. 

“You can see how it has been improved in outward 
appearance by a little paint. How do you like the color 
combinations ? ” 

Both expressed themselves as pleased. 

“ I’m well acquainted with the man who made the selec- 
tions,” said Travers, “and he’ll be glad to know of your 
satisfaction.” 

Ray looked at him and laughed. 

“I think I could guess the man’s name,” she declared. 

“Don’t do it, then, and spoil the joke,” urged Travers, 
whimsically. “But let me open the door. I have a key, 
and we needn’t bother the housekeeper. Here we are in 
the vestibule. You see I left the oak wainscoting as it was, 
only freshened it up a bit. But look at that wall. How do 
you like that goods, says I. Says you, 4 it’s very beautiful, 
but what is it?’ Says I, its called Hessian-Ko-Na, a basket- 
weave fabric. I used this bright yellowish green, because 
it so well suited this entrance. Everything in such cases 
depends on the situation and surroundings of the house, and 
its relation to light. Each house must be studied by itself. 
Here above the wainscoting is a printed border, made at the 
Fab-Ri-Ivo-Na mills. It is nine inches wide, and on a 
brownish red ground has a Renaissance design in scarlet. I 
divide it from the wall by a half-inch gold moulding. At 
the top of the wall there is another strip of the same border, 
with the gold moulding at the bottom of it. The ceiling, 


[ 33 ] 


A Fair Prize 


you see, is of another Hessian-Ko-Na, or basket-weave, a 
lighter, almost a lichen green. And there you are.” 

“Well,” commented Ray, “ that is certainly a change from 
the old decorations. I never did like the paper you had put 
on our vestibule and hall. Why didn’t you use Fab-Ri-Ko-Na 
three years ago ? ” 

“ I’ hi afraid I hadn’t fully recovered from my suspicions of 
it at that time. But, speaking of the hall, let us now enter 
that part of the scene. You will see that here, too, I have 
discarded the paper, which was very fine in its day. The 
wainscot and woodwork have been made a deep golden oak, 
but the full wall above the wainscot is, as you see, a dull 
blue, carried up through the frieze, which is stenciled in 
festoons and wreaths. It gives the hall a solid, dignified 
appearance, which every hallway should possess. 

“But, ‘Will you walk into my parlor?’ said the Spider to 
the Fly. And when you have seen it, I'm sure you will per- 
mit the Spider to add : ‘ ’ Tis the prettiest little parlor, ma’am, 
that ever you did spy.’ 

“Here even the woodwork is changed. It is now white 
and gold. The walls are a pale apple green Krash-Ko-Na, 
and the carpet and draperies are rose colored. The gilt 
furniture is newly upholstered in a Marie Antoinette stripe of 
rose color and green on a white ground. The ceiling, which 
is covered with prepared canvas, has a central panel bordered 
with -white and gold relief work, the panel being a delicate 
green, and the style a very pale rose color. You see the 
room is a perfect harmony, delightfully dainty, as a drawing 
room should be, and each item has been selected in accordance 
with the fitness of things, which characterizes modern decor- 
ations. Not only must each room, with all its appointments, be 
a complete harmony in itself, but all rooms that open directly 
into each other, as do the rooms on the lower floor, must 
agree with one another, each being a part of a general scheme. 

“There’s another point not always given due consideration ; 
it is that the living rooms of a house must always, so far as 
possible, be decorated with due regard for the lady or ladies 
of the house. Men in a house are simply negative elements; 
their clothes and their complexions are not influenced by their 


[ 34 ] 


A Fair Prize 


surroundings. But with the ladies it is different. If the 
lady of the house has certain fine points in her appearance, 
those points may be brought out more strongly by her wear- 
ing apparel, and by her surroundings, — or they may be 
entirely neutralized. The fact is that a home is merely a 
larger garment for its mistress, and it may be made becom- 
ing or unbecoming to her. The good decorator will seek to 
make it becoming. And he can find nothing so well adapted 
to that end as a woven wall fabric. 

“Don’t you think that a queer idea ?” Ray asked, rather 
skeptically. 

“I think it a very just one,” her mother responded, with- 
out waiting for Travers to reply. 

“Come into the library, now,” Travers went on. “Here 
we have the same mahogany bookcases, and above them a 
light brown burlap all the way up, with a Renaissance frieze 
stenciled on it. Here the woodwork and furniture, even the 
rug, correspond with the walls and the ceiling. The latter 
is of prepared canvas tinted a cream color, with a border of 
bay leaves in relief running around about fifteen inches from 
the cornice, and a circle of delicate relief ornamentation 
paneling the center. 

“And now, the dining room is next in order.” Travers 
waved his hand as if inviting them to pass on before him. 

“Behold it! A deep brown burlap runs from the base- 
board to the plate-rail, above which a rich red burlap reaches 
to the cove, where a Colonial stencil design has been used for 
ornament. The fireplace has been made over with blue tiles, 
and the woodwork is all of a golden oak. There is a new 
rug on the floor, a deep crimson with a border of crimson 
and old gold. ’Tis a very cheerful room, as dining rooms 
ought to be. There is an intimate relation between the mind 
and the digestive functions, even if we refuse to believe 
what some declare, that man thinks through his stomach. 

“ Speaking of that carries us to the kitchen. Here a dull 
green oak wainscot is surmounted by a Prepared Burlap 
which is made to be painted on, and we have covered it with 
a light green gloss paint. The ceiling canvas is painted 
with a cream-colored flat paint. All the walls are now wash 


[ 35 ] 


A Fair Prize 


able, and dirt will be at a disadvantage. In the pantry and 
laundry the same result has been produced. You can keep 
them clean, and yet they are an artistic part of an artistic 
home. ” 

Travers looked at his watch. 

“ The afternoon is slipping away, but if you are not tired, 
I can finish my story.” 

They urged him to continue. 

“Well, by your permission, we’ll now take a look upstairs. 
You will notice that we carry a lighter shade of blue over 
the upper hall with a tinted ceiling to match. When we 
come to upstairs rooms we have a very different condition 
than that which prevails on the lower floor. Here the rooms 
are for privacy, and may be treated individually according to 
the taste or requirements of those who are to occupy them. 

“ We will take the guest chamber first. The "wall is a deep 
yellowish green Krasli-Ko-Na with a frieze in cream-tinted 
relief, and the ceiling canvas in a very light tint of the same 
green as in the walls. 

“Then, here is your own room, madam. This beautiful 
wall is a Krasli of a tint which is as near to ashes of roses as 
anything. A light blue frieze is delicately stenciled, and the 
cream-tinted ceiling has stenciled corners and center. It’s all 
very simple, but you’ll have no headaches from the distrac- 
tions of puzzling designs, and your sleep will be more peace- 
ful in a room so quiet and unobtrusive. 

“As to the little woman here, we kept her taste in mind. 
We used this delicate blue Krasli for the lower part of the 
wall, a harmonizing wall paper for the upper third, printed 
in an effective floral design, and the ceiling canvas tinted to 
carry up the color tone of the walls, and there you have as 
dainty a nest as ever sheltered a princess of the blood royal. 

“All the other rooms are equally up to date, and when you 
have time to examine them you will see how well the Fab- 
Ri-Ko-Na wall coverings can be used in combination with 
wall papers and other decorative materials. Very often 
merely a dado or a frieze of burlap or Krasli will lend a touch 
of added dignity or beauty to a papered wall.” 

“But you will want to see Jim’s, — I mean Mr. Dalsimer’s,— 


[ 36 ] 


A Fair Prize 


room now. Here it is. It has been given a leather effect, the 
lower two-thirds being in burlap of one shade of a leathery 
tan, the upper third in Krash of another and lighter 
shade, the ceiling tinted in tone with the walls. The furni- 
ture is leather, and all the wood-work is made to correspond.” 

“The decorations all seem comparatively simple,” sug- 
gested H&y. 

“Simplicity, my dear, is the key-note of modern decorative 
art. We are happily getting out of a period in which a 
vulgar love of display, and a profound ignorance of art, 
combined to lead us into all manner of extravagances. The 
new spirit in our art has called into the decorative field many 
sincere and inspired artists; it has led manufacturers to reach 
out after new and better materials; it has given the architect 
and the decorator new ideas and ideals, or has thrown down 
the barriers behind which, heretofore, they have been shut 
away from the higher things. 

“But, let’s now take a walk around. We’ve had enough 
of decorations for to-day, and it will soon be eating-time 
again. Did I tell you I must leave you when we reach Vicks- 
burg to-morrow ? No ? I will take the train from there to 
Memphis, where I have a business appointment. It may 
mean that I must go on to New York at once, but I am hop- 
ing to get to St. Louis for a little while, and will, if possible 
catch the “Chalmette” as she passes Memphis. I never 
before had the time to take this sail on the river, and a little 
such rest will do me good.” 

They walked about until called to the evening meal, 
Travers going back to his amusing banter, and keeping them 
laughing constantly at his quaint but witty humor. During 
the evening he was again the life of the company. 

The next day was one of those rare days when Nature 
seems on her best behavior. The breeze was fresh enough to 
offset the heat of the sun, and the scenes along the great river 
were exquisitely beautiful. Early in the day they passed 
old Natchez, sitting high upon its bluffs, the long stretch of 
fine estates adjacent to it just barely visible from the boat. 
And all through the day plantation succeeded forest, and 
forest succeeded plantation, with an occasional village, or a 


[ 37 ] 


A Fair Prize 

small landing-place to keep the panorama from becoming 
monotonous. 

During most of the morning Mrs. Dalsimer and Travers 
were busy with their correspondence, and it left Ray to her 
own resources. She took a book out on deck, and found a 
place to sit, but she read very little. The magic of the scene 
was upon her, and she merely dreamed the hours away. The 
two figures most in her thoughts at all times were in her 
dreams, and she felt a sense of coming events, but only in a 
languid way. Life as it was that day was too sweet and 
peaceful to admit of interference from either yesterday or 
to-morrow. 

So strongly was that mood upon her in the afternoon, that 
Travers, though he put forth some effort, could not rally her 
out of it. Her mother responded more than usually to his 
humor, but he felt, after a time, that Ray must have become 
bored by his company, and he left them and remained on 
another part of the deck. 

Mrs. Dalsimer, finding Ray absorbed and unsocial, and not 
reluctant to have her think out, as was likely she was doing, 
some of the serious problems before her, presently withdrew 
quietly and went to her stateroom, where, by leaving the door 
open, she could sit and read in comfort. 

It was getting well toward evening before Ray came out 
of her reverie. She was surprised to see how nearly the day 
was spent, and remembered remorsefully how selfish her 
absorption must have appeared. She looked around the 
deck and discovered Mr. Travers sitting alone by the stern- 
rail, his back to the rail, and his face turned toward her. He 
seemed to have been watching her. She rose and went to 
him. 

“ I’m afraid I was rude to you this afternoon, Mr. Travers,” 
she said regretfully. “ The fact is, I was dreaming dreams.” 

“ Was lie in them ?” Travers asked, with his smiling face 
expressing a forgiveness he did not need to speak. 

“ They were,” answered Ray, looking down blushingly. 

Travers whistled. 

“ And don’t you know which of the ‘ they ’ is ‘ lie ’ ? ” 

Ray shook her head, looking distressed. 

[ 38 ] 


A Fair Prize 


“ Well! ” exclaimed Travers. “ If that don’t beat me ! If 
it was a political case, and the two candidates had the con- 
vention so equally balanced, I should say this was the oppor- 
tune moment for the dark horse to be trotted in. It isn’t 
likely you’d give an old fellow like me an)' consideration ? ” 

Ray answered his ringing laugh with a rather hysterical 
giggle, but tears were coming close to her eyes. 

“Please don’t make fun of me,” she pleaded. “ I trust 
you, Mr. Travers, and believe you would help me if you 
could.” 

“Would I ? try me, little woman. If you care to tell me 
all about it, perhaps things may come round so I can be of 
some use.” 

And there in the fading of the afternoon, while the sun was 
putting forth his dying glories, when even the light breeze was 
sinking away as if, with the birds, it was seeking rest, Ray 
told Travers her story, and her perplexity. She found him 
quick to understand and sympathise. When they were called 
to the evening meal, she felt that she had gained a new and 
valued friend. That he was to leave them sometime during 
the evening — for they were nearing Vicksburg— threw a 
shadow over it all ; but he assured her he would do his best 
to rejoin them at Memphis. 

Before they retired that night, he had gone. The two 
succeeding days were lacking in the strong human interest 
he had given to the trip thus far, but they passed pleasantly, 
except for Ray’s growing nervous excitement. When, on 
the fourth day they drew near to Memphis, and she knew 
that the crisis was at hand, she did what she would never 
have believed it possible for her to do, she ran into the cabin, 
and shut herself up, leaving her mother to receive Bob if he 
came. 



[ 39 ] 


CHAPTER VII. 


T HAT day, in the lobby of the Hotel Gayosa in Memphis, 
two young men, who had arrived the evening before, 
were paying their bills, preparatory to leaving. A 
rather small, carefully dressed man with a humorous face 
stood at the clerk’s desk, very near them. They heard him 
say : 

“You’re sure they’ll send the carriage in time, so that 
there’ll be no danger of missing the ‘ Chalmette’ ?” 

The clerk assured him. 

“ Where is the nearest place to buy some flowers ?” again 
queried the small man, taking off his hat to wipe his brow, 
and incidentally revealing the fact that his hair stood on end. 
The clerk informed him. 

He was about to step away when the two young men, as if 
with one accord, came toward him. The tall one with the 
brown hair and mustache, whose kindly eyes gleamed through 
glasses, spoke first: 

“Excuse me, sir, but do I understand that you are going 
up the river on the ‘Chalmette,’ and have arranged for a 
carriage ? ” 

“Those are the facts, sir,” answered the small man smiling- 
ly, “and I should say you understood them correctly.” 

“It happens that I also am going that way,” said the young 
man. “I wonder whether we might not have a carriage for 
two, and go down together ? ” 

Before the small man could reply, the other young fellow, 
him of the lighter hair, the smooth, boyish face and the blue 
eyes that needed no extraneous aids, broke in laughingly : 

“ Why not make it for three ? It seems we are to be fellow 
voyagers. Shall we ? ” 

“Sure,” said the small man. And the clerk was instructed 
accordingly. 


[ 40 ] 


man. 


A Fair Prize 

“Now, about some flowers,” said the tall young 
“ Where did the clerk say you would find them ? ” 

He was informed. 

“Well, let’s go and find them quick and get back. That 
boat is likely to arrive any minute. I am to meet some ladies 
on her.” Thus the tall fellow. 

“So am I,” said smooth-face. 

“ So am I,” quoth he of the upright hair. 

And thereupon they went out together. They soon came 
back, each bearing two gorgeous bouquets. The coincidence 
seemed to reach even to the number of ladies to be met. 

They had been back but a few minutes when the carriage ap- 
peared. They sprang in, and were soon out again, making for 
the staging of the “Chalmette,” each bearing his fragrant 
burden, and each followed by a darkey, carrying his baggage. 

As they stepped up the staging each glanced toward the 
crowded hurricane deck, and waved his flowers. Once on 
board each gave hurried instructions as to the temporary dis- 
posal of the baggage, and on the heels of each other they 
hurried upstairs. Without breaking ranks they marched 
together until they confronted the same smiling woman. 
The tall young man was slightly in advance. 

“ My dear Mrs. Dalsimer, I am delighted to see you again. 
May I offer you one of these ? ” 

“Thank you Lionel; it will give me great pleasure.” Mrs. 
Dalsimer took the bouquet, and shook hands with Mr. 
Beeson. 

Smooth -face was next. His blue eyes gleamed with the 
humor of the situation. He repeated, probably for con- 
venience only, the recently established formula : 

“My dear Mrs. Dalsimer, I am delighted to see you again. 
May I offer you one of these ? ” 

Mrs. Dalsimer’s smile was not quite so spontaneous this 
time, but she was equal to the emergency : 

“Thank you, Bob; it will give me great pleasure.” And 
she shook hands with Mr. Linton. 

He of the upright hair now advanced. He bowed very low. 

“My dear Mrs. Dalsimer, I am delighted to see you again. 
May I offer you one of these ? ” 


[41 ] 




A Fair Prize 


By this time Mrs. Dalsimer’s gravity was nearly lost. It 
was with a great effort that she repeated her part of the 
ceremony. Then all four burst into uncontrollable laughter. 
Travers was first to find his speech. 

“ To save time, Mrs. Dalsimer, I wish to ask, in the name of 
these young gentlemen and for myself, where is Miss Ray ?” 

“We will go down into the cabin, and see,” replied Mrs. 
Dalsimer, leading the way, the procession following in single 
file. An analysis of the thoughts and feelings of the quar- 
tette would be interesting. Once in the cabin, Travers stopped 
the others, and talked to them like a stage manager planning 
a dramatic climax. The cabin was nearly deserted. Most of 
the people were out on the deck, looking at the city and the 
busy scene on the levee. 

Ray had not been entirely idle during her retreat. She had 
given some considerable thought and care to her personal 
appearance. When she heard footsteps approach and stop 
near her door, she was still putting nervous touches to her 
toilette. She stood quiet, listening, while her heart beat 
fiercely in her breast. 

A knock. “Raj r , come out; I wish to see you!” It was 
mamma’s voice. 

Another knock. “ Ray, come out; I wish to see you! ” It 
was the voice of Mr. Travers, and her relief was so great 
that she started toward the door. 

Another knock. “Ray, come out; I wish to see you!” 
She stopped, and put her hand over her heart, as if to hold it 
in bounds. It was Bob’s voice. 

Another knock. “Ray, come out; I wish to see you!” 
She almost choked. Was it possible ? How could it be! Yet 
it was — it was — Lionel’s voice! In her amazed excitement 
she wanted to laugh and she wanted to cry. She did neither. 
Summoning up the strength she could rely upon in critical 
moments she walked to the door, opened it, and stood in per- 
fect self-possession while the three men, bowing as one, knelt 
before her, and laid their tribute of flowers at her feet. 

It was all very ridiculous, to be sure, but she dared not yield 
to any form of emotion. She merely said: 

“You will save me from having to bend over uncomfort- 


[ 43 ] 


A Fair Prize 


ably if you will all be kind enough to rise, and hand the 
flowers to me in the ordinary way.” 

They did as she asked them. She greeted each very quietly, 
and sat down with them while her mother, quickly seeing 
what was needed, took the lead in a half hour of gay chat. 
Ray gradually roused herself, and entered into the conversa- 
tion with much of her natural animation, but it was not easy, 
and the others were conscious that it was not, though they 
exerted themselves to hide any evidence of such conscious- 
ness. 

All that evening Ray and Travers were inseparable, whether 
the party were on deck or in the cabin. Bob and Lionel were 
kept at a distance. It was so again the next morning, and all 
the next day. Try as they would they could not get a word 
with Ray alone. Finally, toward evening, they went to 
a quiet part of the deck, lighted cigars, and sat down 
together. 

“See here, Mr. Beeson,” said Bob, after a rather long 
silence, “ I think it would be easier for all concerned if we — 
that is, you and I — had an understanding. I love Miss Dal- 
simer, and I think you do. Am I right ? ” 

“You are right.” 

“I came to meet this boat in the hope that I could get a 
chance to ask her to marry me. I suspect that you had some 
such purpose on your own behalf. Am I right again ? ” 

“ You are right again.” 

“ Good. So far we meet frankly. It is evident that some- 
where there are cross purposes at work. Mrs. Dalsimer, for 
some reason, has never taken to me, but she seems very cordial 
to you.” 

“ She has always been so. She is very kind.” 

“On the other hand, Mr. Dalsimer and my father are like 
brothers, and he treats me as if I were his own son.” 

“On the few occasions when I met him he was barely 
polite. ” 

“It seems, then, that Mrs. Dalsimer favors you, while Mr. 
Dalsimer is probably on my side. That much is plain. Now 
the important thing to find out is which side Miss Dalsimer 
favors. How are we to do it ? ” 


[ 44 ] 


A Fair Prize 


“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Lionel, sadly. “I wish I 
did. I’m afraid that between her father and her mother, Miss 
Dalsimer is having a hard time. Much as I love her, I would 
go away at once, and leave the happiness to you, if I were 
certain that it would bring happiness to her.” 

“I believe it, Beeson,” said Bob, putting out a hand, 
which Lionel shook cordially. “I believe it, and I honor you 
for it. If I have to give her up, the fact that I yield her to 
so good a fellow will be my greatest comfort. I think I can 
say, as sincerely as yourself, that I love her enough to wish 
her to be truly happy. It may not be the most romantic or 
sentimental way of looking at such a question, but it is cer- 
tainly the least selfish and heathen. ” 

‘ ‘ Here comes Mr. Travers, ” said Lionel. ‘ ‘ He seems a very 
good sort, and is the court favorite at present. Suppose we 
explain our position to him, and ask his advice.” 

Accordingly they took Travers into their confidence. He 
was greatly touched and pleased by the sensible and honor- 
able views they expressed. 

“ My dear boys,” said he, “by all the traditions you should 
be mortal enemies. You should be going about with the 
wrath of hades in your hearts, waiting for a chance to undo 
and destroy one another. But ’tis far better as it is. My 
advice is that you carry your friendly agreement a step further. 
Let each of you write a letter, telling Miss llay what you 
came to tell, and explaining your feelings toward her and 
toward each other. Promise to make no verbal reference to 
the matter until in some way she indicates which one, if 
either, she chooses. That will place the matter directly 
in her own hands, and will lessen the constraint in your 
association with her. I will see that your letters are 
delivered.” 

It was done. Before Ray went to her room that night she 
had the two letters. She read them. They expressed in 
noble terms the messages they conveyed. Their writers were 
lifted higher, if possible, in her esteem. But so equally did 
they rise, that when she had read the messages, her decision 
was as far off as before. 


[ 45 ] 



CHAPTER VIII. 

T HE rest of the trip was uneventful. There was less 
constraint in the relations between the young people, 
but Hay found it hard to keep up appearances. The 
consciousness that both Bob and Lionel were watching and 
waiting for some sign from her made her position difficult. 



THE EAD'S BRIDGE, ST. LOUIS 


Still they were merry enough, helped on by the irresistible 
Travers ; and, when the “ Clialmette ” drew up to her rest- 
ing-place at St. Louis, almost under the shadow of the 
great Ead’s Bridge, and Jim and Linton met them, Ray 
sprang to her father’s arms with her childish gaiety, and the 
others showed no evidence of the strain they had been under. 

Jim had secured accommodations for all except Lionel and 
Travers, at one of the new hotels not far from the Fair 
grounds. He welcomed them heartily, and induced them to 


[ 46 ] 


A Fair Prize 


go with the rest, assuring them that extra room could 
easily be found. It was early evening when the boat arrived. 
They reached their hotel just in time to dress for dinner. As 
they sat around the table, Ray was the merriest of them all ; 
and no one looking on could have imagined that any deep 
undercurrents of feeling were moving that gay company 
toward a momentous decision. 

The next day they all went out to the Fair grounds. Near 
the Lindell Entrance they found the automobiles which carry 
visitors around the grounds, and securing one they began a 
comfortable tour of inspection. 

There have been World’s Fairs before, planned on gigantic 
scales, wrought out with skill little short of marvelous; but 
never before has the world seen anything so stupendous in 
proportions, so beautiful in conception, so artistic in execu- 
tion, as this Fair which commemorates the purchase from 
France, for $15,000,000, of that imperial western domain, 
more than a million square miles in area, now forming the 
Indian Territory, Oklahoma, Louisiana, Arkansas, Missouri, 
Iowa, Minnesota, Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming, the 
Dakotas, Montana, and part of Idaho. 

Into the vast ivory-tinted palaces of this Exposition the 
whole world has poured its treasures of industry and art. 
All the processes and products that are the ripened fruit of 
centuries of civilization are displayed. 

The automobile, by Jim’s direction, carried the party 
swiftly around the grounds until it brought them to the beau- 
tiful Festival Hall, at the top of the hill, from which they 
could take in, at one sweeping glance, the general features of 
the Fair. Here they dismounted, and walked around to the 
front of the Hall. On either side of them curved the Colon- 
nade of States, each State and Territory formed of the great 
Purchase being symbolically represented by a sculptured 
group. Below them gushed and plashed the fountains and 
cascades, foaming down between rows of heroic statues until 
their waters fell into the great lagoon. Straight in front, 
down on the level, the Grand Basin, covered with picturesque 
gondolas, stretched away to encircle with its many-bridged 
arms the great white palaces. 


[ 47 ] 


A Fair Prize 


The whole scene was too wonderful, too unreal, too perfect 
in its dream-like splendor, for comment. Silently the group 
stood and surveyed it. Ray’s first feeling was one of aston- 
ishment ; then came a profound awe, as if she stood before 
* the creation of some master artist; finally, the dominant feel- 
ing was incredulity. It was too vast, too exquisitely glorious, 
to be real. 

“Please pinch me, papa, — I want to be sure that I’m 
awake. Is it all real ? Won’t it fade away ? ” 

“Not to-day, daughter; and yet it’s not very real. The 
marble palaces are principally lath and plaster, and the stat- 
uary will do well if it doesn’t crumble into fragments before 
the Fair is over. ” 

“That’s very true for you, sir,” said Travers. “Still, 
whether marble or plaster it would amount to the same thing 
in the end. The palaces of Egypt and Babylon, the temples 
of Greece and Rome, — where are they ? And what’s the dif- 
ference, after all, between a few months and a few years ? 
The things men make must decay.” 

“Travers,” said Jim, menacingly, “if you utter another 
sentiment like that we’ll throw you right down there into the 
wet, wet water. No intelligent person has stood here, or will 
stand here, without thinking just what your brilliant mind 
has suggested to you. It was a common thought at the Pan- 
American, at Chicago, at the Centennial, at the burning of 
Rome, at the destruction of Jerusalem, at the fall of Babylon, 
at the time of the Flood. If you can’t think anything new 
about such a scene as this, don’t venture, at all events, to 
think aloud.” 

“But, papa,” protested Ray, “I was thinking the same 
thing myself.” 

“So was I,” said her father. Then turning to the rest of 
the company he said: “All who were thinking that same 
thought hold up your right hand.” Up went a hand from 
each one, including Mrs. Dalsimer. “There,” said Jim. 
triumphantly, “that proves what I said.” 

“ Stop your nonsense, Papa Dalsimer, ” Ray ordered, with the 
imperial air she often put on when addressing Jim. ‘ ‘ Stop your 
nonsense, and tell us which building is which and what.” 


[ 48 ] 


A Fair Prize 


So Jim pointed out the Government Building far in the 
distance on the right. Nearer, on the same side, the Hall of 
Mines and Metallurgy, with the Egyptian entrances, and be- 
hind, partly hidden by it, the Palace of the Liberal Arts. 
Still nearer, across the Venetian east lagoon, were the Edu- 
cation and Manufactures buildings. Then came the Grand 
Basin as the centerpiece, at the distant end of which towered 
the Louisiana Purchase Monument. On the left of the Basin 
stood the Electrical Building, the eastern facade of the Palace 
of Varied Industries showing in the distance, and across the 
west lagoon were the Machinery and Transportation buildings. 

In the architecture of this wonderful assemblage of struc- 
tures, what variety, what unity ! No two alike, yet each re- 
lated to all. Many spirits had been evoked, Egyptian, Greek, 
Roman, Classic, and Modern; but over all, modifying, adapt- 
ing, unifying all, was the one Master Spirit, the spirit of the 
Twentieth Century, scientific, progressive, cosmopolitan, 
triumphant; laying the ages under tribute, drawing from 
each whatsoever it might possess that would serve to en- 
rich or adorn the Present, and reveal to an aspiring world 
some glimpses of a more glorious Future. 

A long time was spent in drinking in this wonderful view, 
and in locating, by Jim’s assistance, the many contributary 
features of the great Exposition. At last, consulting his 
watch, lie said : 

“ This tick-tick of mine declares that the next thing on the 
programme should be luncheon. Suppose we visit one of these 
restaurants here on the terrace, and then look through one of 
the big buildings. Which shall be the first ?” 

“If the company doesn’t object,” said Travers, “I would 
suggest the Varied Industries. I have several friends among 
the exhibitors there, and I could get in a bit of business while 
you folk were enjoying yourselves. But don’t let me drag 
you away from anything you’d rather see. I can go in there 
by myself, and meet you again this evening.” 

As no one objected it was decided to go there. An 
hour later they were at the main entrance of the Palace of 
Varied Industries, having first taken a slow T trip along the 
Pike, getting a suoerficial glance at the bewildering con- 


[ 49 ] 





Louisiana Purchase Exposition, St. Louis, Mo., 1904 



A Fair Prize 


glomeration of interesting things gathered there for the enter- 
tainment of the curious. 

As they entered the Varied Industries, Ray, whose memory 
of the great Chicago exhibition was rather vague, was amazed 
at the immensity of the structure, and the almost endless 
rows of exhibits. 

“Gracious! ” she exclaimed, “ Can any one see all there is 
to be seen if this is merely one building out of hundreds ? ” 

“Don’t try to see everything at once, my dear,” said 
Travers. “It’s like trying to see a circus with three rings 
and a stage all at one sitting. You miss too much. Let me 
take you to the booth in which I am most interested. You 
will be interested, too, after what I told you on the boat.” 

He led the way through the main aisle until he came nearly 
to the doorway leading out into the colonnade which traverses 
the central quadrangle. There he turned to the right, and 
they found themselves before a handsome booth built so as to 
form three beautifully decorated and furnished rooms. 

The booth was designed by Mr. Edmund Lewis Ellis, 
architect, in collaboration with Mr. T. M. Turner, both of 
New York, on the general lines of a Roman loggia, and all 
the ornamentation was designed and modeled with a view to 
securing perfect harmony of detail. These loggias, of which 
there are many in the gardens of Italy, are built as places of 
shelter, and some of them are celebrated for the beauty of 
their architecture, and the exquisite character of their decora- 
tions and furnishings. In earlier days the great masters 
often contributed to the decoration of these shelters, and in 
some of them frescoes by Titian and Raphael may still be seen. 
Among the most celebrated is the Loggia Dei Lanzie, in Flor- 
ence, built in 1376 by Bensi di Cione and Simone di Talenti. 

While the exterior of the booth was designed simply to 
enclose the exhibit, it was so arranged that its openness should 
give a perfect view of the interior, and present an inviting 
and hospitable appearance. The vases surmounting the col- 
umns were direct casts from a beautiful Florentine vase, the 
original of which was accidentally destroyed. The casts are 
valuable and splendid specimens of Florentine art. 

The three rooms were not designed in any particular style, 


[51 ] 


A Fair Prize 

but were made to illustrate in a measure certain rooms in a 
modern house. 

The room nearest the main aisle represented in miniature a 
drawing room decorated in white, green, and gold, the furni- 
ture a willow green, and the hangings made to correspond. 
The lower portion of the walls was broken into ornamental 
panels and the walls were bordered by a stenciled frieze of 
unique design. There was a simple fireplace in white and 
gold with a light bluish green dull tile facing and hearth. 
The general effect was somewhat formal and dignified, as it 
should be in such a room. 

The middle space was fitted up as a dining room, the dark 
woodwork and brown and green burlaps combined in the 
modern Colonial style. The furniture was in Cremona brown. 
The soft yellow windows had a Greek pattern worked on 
them which gave them a latticed effect. 

The third room was arranged for a library, the woodwork 
French walnut, the walls above the bookcases covered with 
dark green burlap, the ceiling beamed, with a golden back- 
ground between the beams giving a delightful glow. The 
furniture was weathered gray. 

In all these rooms the wall coverings were of Fab-Ri-Ko-Na, 
exhibiting in a practical way the various fabrics made under 
that trade mark. The dainty Krasli Ivo-Na, the solid, digni- 
fied burlaps, the prepared canvas, the Hessian weaves were 
shown as they appear when appropriately used and properly 
combined. While the illustration was far from complete, 
enough was shown to make clear the wonderful possibilities 
these woven wall coverings present to the architect, the 
decorator, and their patrons. 

Under the lead of Travers the party walked through the 
booth, examining and enjoying the rooms and their contents, 
until they came to the library, where they seated themselves. 
Every facility for comfort and convenience had been provided. 
A desk was there with pens, ink, and stationery for the visitor, 
and ample resting places were ingeniously contrived to make 
the most of the available space. The gentleman in charge 
and his assistants were very busy at the moment, showing to 
an interested audience from sample books, sketches and ready 


[ 52 ] 


A Fair Prize 


decorated pieces of the fabrics, the various qualities and uses 
of the line. One young man was busy stenciling upon the 
burlaps and Ivrashes with Ko-Na-Colors, using the modern 
stencil system which produces results equal to high-grade 
hand painting. 

A lady attendant was busy explaining to an appreciative 
group the Fab-Ri-Ko-Na embroidery work with raffia on 
burlap, which is so popular just now for making couch pillow 
covers, table covers and hand-worked burlap portieres. While 
she talked she kept her hands busy on an unfinished bit of 
w ork, demonstrating the ease with which the raffia lends itself 
to the production of most charming effects, especially in con- 
nection with the burlaps. The raffia was dyed in many colors, 
and, although the strands looked coarse, was capable of being 
shredded to the fineness of a silk thread without loss of 
strength. 

“Well,” said Ray, after they had watched the workers 
awhile, “this, then, is the Fab-Ri-Ko-Na exhibit. If our 
house looks as well as these beautiful rooms, w r e shall hardly 
find fault.” 

Just then the gentleman in charge approached, and Travers 
introduced his party. The gentleman asked them if they 
had sufficiently understood the meaning of the booth and 
its decorations, and then told them some facts concerning 
its furnishings. 

“This furniture,” said he, “is what is known as the Mission 
style. It is from the warerooms of Jos. P. McHugh & Co., 
of New York. Mr. McHugh first introduced this so- 
called ,style, and is to-day its accepted exponent. It is all 
manufactured under his supervision, and each separate article 
is given an artistic individuality. Mr. McHugh has demon- 
strated that the fantastic elaborateness of design and orna- 
mentation so characteristic of what has been deemed fine 
furniture, w 7 as not only inconsistent with the purpose for 
which furniture is made, but was equally at variance with 
the simplicity which is the prime element in all true art. A 
Mission chair is solid — made to be sat on. A Mission table is 
a frank, honest table. Each piece bears the stamp of its 
purpose. And yet, so excellent is the design, and so skillful 


[ 53 ] 


A Fair Prize 


the craftsmanship, each piece is also the clear expression of 
an artistic idea, wrought out with sympathy and insight. 

“The lighting fixtures in this and the other rooms were 
specially designed and made for this booth by the Tiffany 
Glass and Decorating Co., of New York, whose high standing 
as decorative designers and manufacturers is known in all 
lands. The globes are of Fabrile glass, Which is a discovery 
and invention of Mr. Louis Tiffany, and is considered one of 
the most beautiful and valuable contributions of the nine- 
teenth century to the allied arts. The Greeks and Egyptians 
made a similar glass, but for many centuries the secret was 
lost until rediscovered and developed by Mr. Tiffany.” 

The party then went outside of the booth to look at it from 
the front, and were delighted with the complete harmony be- 
tween the color schemes of the various rooms. Glancing up 
to the frieze of the entablature resting upon the supporting 
Tuscan pillars they read, in the section over the parlor, “H. 
B. Wiggin’s Sons Co., Manufacturers, Bloomfield, N. J. ; over 
the dining-room section, “ Fab-Ri-Ko-Na Woven Wall Cover- 
ings”; over the library section, “J. Spencer Turner Co., 
Selling Agents, New York, Chicago. St. Louis, London.” 



[ 54 ] 


4 


CHAPTER IX. 



4 MID the distractions of the Fair, Hay’s mind had been 
wholesomely diverted during the day, but her heart- 
trouble could not be forgotten. Each night, in spite 
of her weary body, she had spent a great deal of time puz- 
zling over her peculiar situation. Bob and Lionel were 
equally attentive and considerate. Neither could be said to 
outdo the other in solicitude for her comfort and pleasure. 
Neither allowed himself to appear sad or anxious, but both 
followed her every movement with eyes full of love and 
hope. Quiet, gentle, scholarly Lionel; strong, impulsive, 
gay-liearted Bob, — which should it be ? 

Her mother had been gracious to -both, but unmistakably 
favored Lionel ; Bob, on the other hand, had been her father’s 
favorite. Both father and mother had been very kind to her, 
and had in no direct way attempted to influence her choice. 
Mr. Travers had not so much as mentioned the two letters. 
She was absolutely free, and must face her problem alone. 
It seemed to her that she had grown years older in the last 
few weeks. Was she never to reach the end of her inde- 
cision ? Could nothing tear aside the veil of her heart, and 
reveal to her its true desire ? 

One morning she felt too tired and depressed to go out. 
She breakfasted in her room. The others, believing her to be 
merely fatigued by the incessant sight-seeing, did not change 
the arrangements for the day, which included a tallyho 
tour around the suburbs of the city, in company with 
a few friends of Jim and Linton. They all came to ex- 
press their regrets, and to wish her a good rest, before they 
departed on their trip. She parted from them with 
smiles, but those smiles gave way to tears before the wait- 
ing tallyho with its four restless horses had received its 
passengers. Her heart was unaccountably heavy. Aname- 


Lof C. 


A Fair Prize 

less, vague foreboding lay upon it, like the shadow of an 
impending crisis. 

As the hours slowly passed her restlessness increased. She 
could neither read, nor write, nor sleep, nor sit still. Up and 
down the room she paced. Many times in her sense of help- 
lessness she knelt by her bedside in prayer; praying for 



CORNER OP PARLOR IN FAB-RI-KO-NA BOOTH 

peace, for strength, for grace to meet whatever might befall; 
praying for direction in her uncertainty, for a clear light 
upon the pathway of the future. 

Slowly, heavily the hours dragged. She sent her luncheon 
back untasted. To the kindly enquiries of the maid she 


[ 56 ] 




A Fail* Prize 


gave evasive answers. She simply endured the time; waiting, 
waiting, with the shadow falling ever more deeply upon her. 

About five o’clock she heard heavy footsteps coming hur- 
riedly through the corridor. Almost before a tap could be 
given on her door, she had it open, and met her father face to 
face. Her brain reeled as she saw how terribly bruised his 
dear face was, and she would have fallen but for his quick 
support. He led her to a couch, and then, wrapping the 
mighty strength of his love about her, he told her the sad 
tidings he bore. 


The day had been perfect. Beyond the heated streets of 
the city a cool breeze had stirred the foliage of the trees, and 
the summer flowers had filled the moving air with their per- 
fume. The tallylio party had been in the gayest spirits. 
They had lunched at a quaint old tavern in a little settlement 
some miles out of town. Returning in the afternoon by a 
more circuitous route, they had rolled smoothly along, their 
keen enjoyment marred by no premonition of the catastrophe 
toward which the swiftly-moving horses were bearing them. 

The animals had been very restless all day, but the driver 
had kept them under safe control. Coming in mid-afternoon 
to a railroad, they had hurried across in ample time to escape 
an approaching train, but the shrill blasts of the whistle, and 
the roar of the flying cars, had startled the horses, and set 
them to plunging furiously. 

The driver exerted himself to the utmost to check them. 
In straining upon the reins he had risen to his feet, when the 
wheel of the swaying coach, now far on one side of the high- 
way, suddenly hit an obstruction, and he was thrown head- 
long to the ground, carrying the reins with him. The 
crash of his fall, the strange jerk of the reins, and the screams 
of the frightened women, helped by the frantic shouts of the 
dragging driver, gave new impetus to the maddened brutes, 
and they sprang forward with fierce energy, swinging the 
coach to the opposite side of the road, where the ditching 
was dangerously deep. The coach toppled as the front 
wheels dropped into the ditch. Lionel ami Bob, seated with 


[ 57 1 


A Fair Prize 


the rest of their party on the roof, leaped to the ground, hoping 
to seize the horses and prevent an accident. Just as they 
jumped, the coach went over. Bob was caught beneath it. 
Lionel reached the plunging leaders, and fought them into 
quick submission. But the sad work had been done — done 
beyond repair. 

As the coach careened, Jack Linton, who sat directly be- 
hind Mrs. Dalsimer on the side nearest the ditch, seized her 
in his arms, and tried to so place himself beside her as to 
break her fall. They had both risen to their feet, and they 
fell together. They struck the earth just in front of the heavy 
rear wheel, and just as that wheel turned over with the turn- 
ing of the coach. The massive hub caught Linton in his side, 
and dragged him completely across Mrs. Dalsimer, crushing 
him, but leaving her almost without injury. 

As the dazed and bruised passengers scrambled to their feet, 
Travers and some other of the men ran to assist Lionel and the 
badly battered driver who were trying to hold the horses. Jim 
thought first of Madge, and in a moment was at her side. 

“Are you hurt, my darling?” was his anxious query as 
he drew her to him. 

“No, no!” she answered breathlessly. “But see, Jim! 
Look at Mr. Linton. He lies there without moving.” 

Jim needed no second bidding. In an instant he had reached 
Linton, who was lying face down, one arm over the back of 
his head, as if to ward off a blow. Jim turned him gently. 
Even the least experienced would have known that the cheer- 
ful light had forever faded from those eyes. 

Mrs. Dalsimer was bending close, and saw. 

“Jim, Jim,” she whispered hoarsely, “he is dead ! dead, 
Jim! And, O God forgive me! he died to save me! He 
died to save me!" 

Others had gathered round. Still others were kneeling by 
another quiet form. Mrs. Dalsimer heard someone say : “Is 
he dead ? ” 

“Who is it ?” she asked of those near her. 

No one answered. Just then Lionel came running up. lie 
attempted to speak to her, but she begged him to first sec 
who it was that was injured. He ran to the other group, 


[ 58 ] 


A Fair Prize 


took one look, consulted hastily with a man who was examin- 
ing the injured one, and leaped back at a bound. 

“ It’s Bob, Mrs. Dalsimer — not dead — bad — I’m going for a 
doctor ! ” And he was off. 

Mrs. Dalsimer looked down at the motionless, distorted 
body of Linton. Then she stepped quickly to where Bob 
lay. The others made way for her. Sitting upon the ground 
she rested the fair, boyish head upon her lap, and wiped the 
dirt from his ghastly face. He was unconscious, but an 
occasional moan told of the agony which was racking his 
body. She bent over the soiled and bloody curls. 

“ Bob, dear Bob! If I can, I’ll save you. He died to save 
me, Bob, — and I thought I hated him. Only come back to 
us, child of his heart, and I’ll hold you so close to my own 
heart that you’ll love me, as he once did. My poor, dear 
boy — my poor, dear boy ! ” 

When the physician came he found that unless there were 
serious internal injuries Bob’s worst hurts were a broken arm 
and some crushed ribs. It would be dangerous to move him 
far. He offered a temporary refuge in his own home, but 
informed Mrs. Dalsimer that some people had just vacated a 
furnished cottage close at hand, which they had rented for 
the summer but had been compelled to leave owing to serious 
illness in their distant home. Excepting for servants, it was 
ready for occupancy. Th&owner was a storekeeper in the vil- 
lage. Lionel was at once dispatched to rent it, and Travers 
went with the doctor to secure a litter upon which Bob could be 
carried. All were back in a few' minutes. When she had given 
up her burden to the litter, Mrs. Dalsimer turned to Jim: 

“You go, now, and bring Ray to me. Then you must 
leave by to-night’s train to prepare poor Elsie. Mr. Travers 
and Lionel can do what is needful here, and they and Ray 
can come East with the body. I will not leave Bob. He 
died to save me, Jim — he died to save me ! ” She threw her 
arms around her husband’s neck, and wept bitterly, but only 
for a moment; steadying herself by a strong effort, she said: 

“Go, now, dear.” And she kissed him with a tenderness 
that thrilled him like a draught of strong wine. 

While the women of the party went with Mrs. Dalsimer to 


[ 59 ] 


A Fair Prize 


the cottage, the men, under instructions from the doctor, made 
the necessary arrangements for the removal of Linton’s body. 
In an hour it, too, was in the cottage, in the care of an undertaker. 

Long before Ray reached the cottage, Bob had regained 
consciousness, and his injuries were carefully dressed. Jim 
had engaged an expressman to bring out the baggage of the 
entire group, post-haste, and it arrived early in the evening. 
It was not until Mrs. Dalsimer and the doctor had cut away 
the soiled and stained garments, and had, as best they could, 
made the sufferer presentable, that Ray was permitted to see 
him. Meanwhile Jim had started for Saratoga, wiring a dis- 
patch which would somewhat prepare Elsie for the dreadful 
tidings. The doctor’s influence had secured for Mrs. Dalsimer 
the temporary assistance of two village women, and a trained 
nurse was momentarily expected. The rest of the unfortu- 
nate tallyho party had gone back to the city. 

When Ray entered his room Bob was trying to smile in the 
midst of his pain, to reassure Mrs. Dalsimer, who was hover- 
ing over him with a tenderness he had never before seen in 
her. As Ray approached his bed, his eyes lighted with pleas- 
ure, and he essayed to reach out his free hand. The slight 
movement caused him a throe of pain that forced him to 
groan. Ray knelt beside the bed, and, strangely quiet, with- 
out a tear or a tremor, laid her hand on his fevered forehead. 

“Bob, dear Bob,” she murmured, “you must get well, — 
for me, Bob, — for me.” 

She bent over him, kissed him gently on his lips, rose and 
left the room. 

Bob lay like one dazed. Even his pain was forgotten. 
Mrs. Dalsimer came to him and she, too, kissed him. 

“Did she mean it, do you think ? ” 

“ Yes, Bob dear, I think she meant it.” 

“Is it only pity for me? Tell me,— do you think she 
loves me ? ” 

“ Yes, dear, she loves you. You have had her heart a long, 
long time. I have stood in your way, poor boy, but you must 
forgive me. You are my son, now, and I will be a loving 
mother to you.” 

‘ ‘Thank God ! Thank God ! I can bear anything, — anything !” 


[ CO ] 


A Fair Prize 


Thereupon Mrs. Dalsimer, with such calmness as she could 
command, and with infinite sympathy, broke to him the fate 
of his father. It was a hard blow, but in the great joy that 
had come to him he bore it with a strength that prevented 
any serious influence on his condition. 

When Ray left him she passed out of a side door of the 
sitting-room to an end of the piazza which half encircled the 
cottage. Here she found Lionel, alone ; Travers being in the 
back parlor with the undertaker. Lionel was smoking, and 
living over again the sad events of the past few hours. 

“How is Bob?” Lionel asked at once, knowing she had 
gone in to see him. 

“Better, I think.” She spoke faintly, and with an effort. 
The strain was telling heavily. 



‘ ‘ Better ? ” said Lionel, 
questioningly. 

“ Yes, — better, — be- 
cause of what I told him.” 

The moon was shining 
brightly, and Ray might 
have seen, had she looked 
up, how his face 
blanched. 

“Then you 
have made your 
choice?” he 
asked un- 
steadily. 


COSY CORNER IN LIBRARY, FAB-RI-KO-NA BOOTH 
[ 61 1 


A Fair Prize 

“ Yes; my heart made it long ago, but I didn’t know — for 
certain — until to-day. Can you forgive me, Lionel? — can 
you forgive me, and still be my friend ? ” 

Her strength was gone. She sank into a chair, and her 
sobs were piteous. Lionel stood beside her, and laid his hand 
on her bowed head. His own tears were falling. 

“ Ray, dear, believe me, I have nothing to forgive. My hope 
has been feeble at the best. What you have been to me, you will 
always be. To have you for my dear friend will be my highest 
honor. To see you happy will be my supreme joy. When my 
duty to you and to the dead is done, I will go my way, and do 
my work. I have gained a strength from your own strong soul, 
and it will help me to bear my burden without bitterness. Be- 
lieve me, dear, and be comforted. I will leave you now, but I 
will be near. You will be better alone for the time.” 

She looked up at him with grateful eyes. He pushed back 
the hair from her brow, and sealed with a reverent kiss upon 
its snow whiteness his vow of unchanging loyalty. 

This story is of the present. Bob, with his new-found joy, 
is still but convalescent. What would a glimpse into the 
future show us ? Could we follow the story, whither would 
it carry us ? Let us prophesy : 

It would carry us through the sad journey east with Linton’s 
remains ; through Ray’s efforts to soothe Elsie’s bereaved heart ; 
through the return of Jim and Ray and Elsie to the cottage (Tra- 
vers and Lionel remaining in New York, the latter soon going 
back to his Indianapolis home) ; through the weeks of Bob’s 
recovery; through the wedding (which would be pleasant); 
through the settling down of the young people with Jim and 
Mrs. Dalsimer in a larger home (which was also decorated with 
Fab-Ri-Ko-Na) ; through the coming of the little ones (to whom 
Mr. Travers was an extra and most sucessful grandfather); 
through Elsie’s marriage three years after Ray’s, — and goodness 
only knows where we’d find a stopping place better than this. 

It only remains to prophesy that Lionel was a frequent and 
welcome visitor at the Dalsimer-Linton home, and that when 
he married — as we will assume he did rather late in life — 
his wife learned to love Ray almost as much as he. 

And so, as we part, gentle reader, here’s a health to the man 
who won, and another health to the man who lost A Fair Prize ! 

[ 62 ] 


rOSTSCRIPT. 


In telling the story of “A Fair Prize,” we have had, as the 
gentle reader may suspect, a purpose oilier than the telling of 
a pleasant tale. We have aimed to interest the reader in the 
Fab-Ri-Ko-Na Woven Wall Coverings, of which we are the 
manufacturers. In this postscript we wish to give you a 
little very-much-condensed information. 

This great Louisiana Purchase Exposition will be known 
in the history of the decorative arts as the real beginning of 
the Burlap Period. Thousands who have never even heard 
of burlap as a decorative material will become familiar with 
it by seeing it so widely used in the Exposition buildings. 
They will, of course, distinguish between the coarse, hastily 
prepared fire-proof burlaps used so largely in the buildings, 
and the fine, high-grade Fab-Ri-Ko-Na wall coverings. The 
Exposition buildings are to stand but a little while. 

If you wish to see the good burlap as it looks when used in 
home decoration, visit the Fab-Ri-Ko-Na Booth, corner of 
Fourth and E streets, Palace of Varied Industries. 

The Fab-Ri-Ko-Na Woven Wall Coverings are the latest, 
most artistic, and most satisfactory coverings for walls ; the 
richest, most dignified, and most durable. They have certain 
practical qualities which commend them: 

1. They keep the walls from cracking. 

2. They are perfectly sanitary. 

3. They are not easily marred by contact with furniture, or 
by accidental bumps or scratches. 

4. They make the most effective background for pictures, 
statuary, furniture, draperies, bookcases, and all the furnish- 
ings of an artistic home. 

5. They may be pasted to the wall with ordinary flour 
paste, and can be hung by any intelligent paperhanger. 

6. They are dyed with the most permanent colorings 
known, and are very fast to light. 

7. They can be restained with Ko-Na-Colors at small cost 
when dimmed by dust and wear. 

8. They cost no more than high-grade wall papers, and are 
really cheaper when their durability and other advantages 
are considered. 

Our success has invited imitation of our goods, but the 
testimony of the trade is that Fab-Ri-Ko-Na woven wall 
coverings surpass all others in quality of material, beauty of 
texture, richness of color, permanence of dye, excellence of 
backing, and evenness of shade. 

These wall coverings you will find at your decorator’s. 
We will send a sample of any one color, that you may see 
the quality of finish and backing. The decorator can show 


[ 63 ] 


JUL 28 1904 


you the full line. If your decorator does not handle 
Fab-Ri-Ko-Na, send us liis name, and we will see that he can 
supply you. If you have no decorator near by, write to us, 
and we will put you in touch with one, or, if that is 
impossible, we will quote you prices direct, and you can get 
a paperlianger to do the work. Be sure to ask for Fab-Ri- 
Ko-Na, and take no substitute. 

We also furnish superior dyed or plain burlaps, out of 
which are made beautiful portiere curtains; unique draperies 
for walls, window seats, and cosy corners; effective hangings 
before bookshelves or open closets; covers for boxes, linen 
chests, and many kinds of ornamental device. For these 
purposes they are made without the stiff backing, and are 
soft enough to fall into graceful folds. These are made in 
two widths: thirty-six inches at 30 cents per yard ; fifty-four 
inches at 50 cents per yard, delivered. 

Have you seen the Fab-Ri-Ko-Na Art Pillow Covers? New 
and original embroidery designs, stamped on burlaps, size 
22x22 inches, to be worked with railia. Price, delivered, 
including both front and back, 50 cents. Raffia, sufficient to 
embroider any one design, 20 cents extra. A large color- 
plate, showing the design in detail, the stitches and the colors 
of raffia in which they are made, is sent with each embroidery 
cover, making the work very easy. 

Artistic Poster Designs, stenciled in colors on Burlaps, size 
22 x 22 inches. All ready for making up. Price, delivered, 
including both front and back, 75 cents. 

Lustrous Dyed Manilla Rope, four yards, enough to go 
round a pillow with bows at corners, Size A(f inches), 35 
cents; Size B 0 inch), 45 cents, delivered. 

Send a postal request for illustrated catalogue giving cuts 
of all designs, and color-plates of Burlaps for the covers 
and the draperies, and of the raffia and rope. 

Our Ko-Na-Colors are a special line of water colors, 
prepared by a new method. Strong, permanent, transparent 
colors. For all kinds of water color painting. Peculiarly 
adapted for painting on woven fabrics, and for painting on 
wood, or for wood staining. Make a sharp clean line. Do 
not run out with the threads or with the grain of the wood. 
Used effectively in connection with pyrograpliy. Half 
ounce tubes, 10 cents. Ounce tubes, 18 cents. One pound 
cans, 65 cents. 

We sell these drapery burlaps, pillow covers, and Ko-Na- 
Colors directly to the individual customer. 

Address all orders or inquiries to II. B. Wiggin’s Sons Co., 
Arch Street, Bloomfield, N. J. 


[ 64 ] 



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